


little deaths in musical beds

by theghostofjamespotter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dallas Stars, M/M, Major Character Injury, San Jose Sharks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghostofjamespotter/pseuds/theghostofjamespotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Nick Spaling is that he’s everything Jason isn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little deaths in musical beds

**Author's Note:**

> title from "that green gentleman" which was played on repeat while writing this. brendon urie, this fic is your fault.
> 
> takes places after the 3/8 games, san jose vs edmonton and dallas vs montreal.
> 
> this is kind of sad. i don't know why i do this.
> 
> if you got here by googling yourself, hmu. i have questions.

 

 

 

 

Stars form through a fight. Gravity versus the nature of gasses to float away. If gravity wins and those gasses can stay put, a fire is lit that will burn forever.

Or billions of years, but that’s as close as you can get to forever, anyway.

Logan gets as close as he’s ever been to a hat trick and they get Reimer a shut out the same night. When he skates out onto the ice in Edmonton as the second star of the game, he’s grateful that everything that went into making him was able to stay put for just long enough.

 

*******

 

He doesn’t check his phone right away.

The dressing room is all smiles, full of congratulations for James and Logan, and he tries to soak as much of it in as he can. It wasn’t that long ago that he was out on injury. Any reminder that he’s still good at what he does is something he welcomes.

Burnzie pulls him into a bear hug. “Sorry bud, we tried to get you that third.”

“It’s alright,” Logan says. “I should’ve got it on my own.”

“It’s gonna happen. Before playoffs, mark my words - we’re gonna get you a hatty.”

Logan laughs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, bud.”

The air is buzzing and warm. They needed this game, this road trip, and things are good for them right now. If Logan were the type of person to idly allow himself to be hopeful, this would be an opportunity for indulgence. He revels in the pride of others, but he knows better than to let himself be content.

“Logan.” Nick is next to him, his blond curls matted to his forehead with post game sweat, eyebrows scrunched together in the middle. He asks, “Did you check on the Dallas game?”

His stomach flutters. Dallas played Montreal tonight and with Montreal’s season, the game could go either way. He’d sent Jason a quick good luck text, but left his phone in his bag most of the day without even checking to see if he got a response. He knew by now that it would just say “you too” or some variation of it.

It’s been over a year of this. Jason and Logan are nothing if not creatures of habit by now.

“No, did they win?”

Nick swallows. “No. They didn’t.” He pauses. “Check your phone.”

 

*******

 

The thing about Nick Spaling is that he’s everything Jason isn’t.

That’s not to say it’s a bad thing. They’re both soft in their own ways and maybe that’s what ultimately drew Logan to both of them, it’s just that...well, he thought with Jason, he had a type.

Jason is kind of an asshole.

He keeps Logan on his toes. Jason has never signed a contract for longer than two years to any one place, never bought a house, or invested too much of himself in anyone or anything. He’s always looking for the next big adventure. When it comes down to it, he’s a bit reckless.

Logan is none of those things.

He wishes he could be. When he was with Jason, sometimes it felt like he could be, like he was the kind of person who could get in his car and drive for hours with no destination in mind, or the kind of person to not be devastated by a trade. There were times with Jason that he felt weightless.

But on his own, he’s not that person. He makes lists, he sets goals, he has wants that are more than just fleeting reactions. If he gets the chance to play his whole career in San Jose, he’s going to take it.

Nick Spaling walks into the dressing room and at first, Logan feels bad for him. There’s a lot about him that’s similar to Logan - they were drafted the same year, both centers, both Ontario boys. But Nick has bounced around the league, the Sharks being his fourth team in seven years. San Jose is the only home Logan has known.

Their stalls are next to each other and Logan does what anyone wearing the A would do.

He’s friendly.

Nick is easy to talk to. He smiles a lot, wears his heart pretty openly on his sleeve. His presence in the dressing room is immediately one of comfort, like he’s been there the whole season, maybe longer, even. He isn’t afraid of chirping anyone, but it feels different coming out of his mouth. It’s easy. Kind. More like he’s flirting with you than giving you a hard time.

What Logan learns is that Nick is trying to be the person who can go with the flow, that can take whatever new twist comes his way with a sense of curiosity and excitement, because he’s smart enough to know that’s the hand he’s been dealt. He’s a low round draft pick who is only just good enough to be trade bait and he doesn’t mind because at the end of the day, he still gets to play hockey.

But Nick wants what Logan wants. He’d hoped those few short years ago that he could stay in Nashville forever, that’d he get a chance to build something for himself.

Nick is able to pick up and leave because he has to be, which is different from Jason, who chooses to be.

 

*******

 

Logan kisses Nick first, which is the third most reckless thing he’s ever done in his life.

 

*******

 

A string of notifications cover Logan’s phone screen. He mindlessly swipes most of them away, too many applications telling him about the fate of a team he doesn’t even play on. _Final Score, MTL - 4, DAL - 3_ , _A. Galchenyuk - OT Goal_.

That sucks. Dallas has been struggling lately, but at least they’re still walking away with a point.

Logan’s thumb hovers over a notification, a familiar name underneath it.

_Stars defenseman Jason Demers injured vs. Canadiens, likely out for season._

His vision blurs.

“Logan.”

He’s aware that Nick is still there, that Nick has taken one look at him and started shoving his things into his bag.

“I got him,” he hears Nick tell the others.

“The flight-” someone says and Nick cuts them off.

Right. The flight. Because they’re in Edmonton and Jason is broken somewhere in Montreal, over a thousand miles from home and from each other.

“We’ll be ready, okay? He needs a minute,” Nick says.

Logan doesn’t even open the notification, just stares at it while Nick takes him by the elbow and guides him out of the dressing room, down a hallway and then another, until they’re somewhere in the arena that Logan doesn’t recognize.

The article gives no real details. Upper body injury. A quote from Lindy Ruff that sounds like a death sentence. A grainy gif of the hit that took him out.

The hit doesn’t even look bad. Jason went down, but Logan can hardly tell why.

“Call him,” Nick says, his eyes wide and his tone that of concern.

Logan pulls up his contacts, taps Jason’s name from the top of the list. It rings seven times and no one answers.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he says. “Pick up.”

He redials. Seven rings. No answer.

Again. Seven rings. No answer.

 

*******

 

The first time Nick wakes up in Logan’s bed is strange.

Logan invites him out, offering to show both of the new guys a little night life on the Bay with the boys. Somewhere between the invite and actually getting to the bar, though, he loses interest. The bar is loud and there are too many eyes on him to feel comfortable letting his guard down.

Nieto insists on shots. Logan refuses and Nick follows his lead.

“Not much of a drinker?” Nick asks.

“Just not really feeling it tonight.” Logan says.

Between the two of them, they have exactly four drinks, which means that Logan is stone cold sober when he asks if Nick wants to come back to his place.

“We can...hang out. Or something. Do you like video games?”

Nick smirks. “Yeah. I like video games.” He tips his glass back, pops an ice cube between his teeth and his cheek. “You’re not gonna try to get me to play Chel, are you?”

Logan relaxes. “Nah, bud. We can skip Chel.”

 

*******

 

They don’t miss the plane.

Logan tries calling Jason three more times, even tries calling Jason’s dad once, but neither of them pick up.

Not until he’s buckled in, until the captain’s voice is overhead and it’s the absolute last minute does he put his phone in airplane mode.

“Nothing’s gonna happen until we land,” Nick tells him. “Try to get some sleep? Please?”

“There’s no way...” The rest of the thought gets swallowed. His knees bounce, knocking together.

“I know.” Nick places his palm open against Logan’s knee, brushes his thumb back and forth until Logan stills. “Just try? You won’t sleep once we’re home.”

Nick’s hand is warm. Logan tries to match his breathing with the rhythm of Nick’s thumb against his leg.

“Okay,” he says. And he tries.

 

*******

 

Nick is a cuddler.

Logan wakes up closed into Nick’s chest and it’s weird but it’s comfortable, like they’d mastered how to fit against each other’s bodies without any practice or forethought.

Caught up in a moment bravery or stupidity the night before, Logan had kissed him.

Nick’s actions are measured and even, his thoughts three steps ahead of anything that he’s doing. It’s something Logan notices watching him on the ice. He’s able to adapt, to change a play within a fraction of a fraction of a second because he already knows every possible outcome.

Everything about Nick is because he knows what he wants and every route he can take to get there.

So when Nick kisses Logan back, it’s a good thing. When he doesn’t take things any further, it’s not inherently a bad thing. When he asks to stay the night anyway, it’s a confusing thing. A mostly good thing, Logan thinks, looking up at Nick while he sleeps, his face rounded and serene, but still a bit of a confusing thing.

It’s hard not to compare him to Jason.

It’s laughable to imagine Jason having any kind of restraint the way Nick does. The same night that Logan and Jason shared their first kiss, they knocked down nearly every other first they could, Jason leading the way, surefooted and careless. To Logan, it felt like something he hadn’t known he could have until that exact moment.

He knows now that he can have things. He could have Nick, eventually, in several meanings of the word, if he plays things right and if Nick will let him. If Nick wants him back, which is only something that Logan recently became unsure of.

Not Nick, specifically, not wanting him, but. Not being wanted in general.

Nick wakes up slowly, squeezing him arms around Logan every few seconds, as if to see that he’s still there. He moans in protest to waking up, low and gravelly in his throat. Logan kisses against his chest experimentally and Nick laughs.

“G’morning.”

Logan shifts, wiggles further up on the bed to look at Nick’s face. His eyes are sleep-puffy, hair messy and loose. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept great,” Nick tells him.

 

*******

 

The flight doesn’t land in California until the morning. Logan manages a couple fitful hours of half-sleep, wakes up more than once against Nick’s shoulder.

As soon as he can, he turns his phone back on, and nearly cries when he has a text from Jason, as scant as it is. It’s from Jason himself and that’s something.

**i’m not dead. on some drugs. call tomorrow.**

There’s another a news notification about him, reports of him seen wearing a sling, that his neck had been examined on the bench, and it’s confirmed that he’s going to miss the rest of the season.

“Is he okay?” Nick asks.

“Yeah. He’s okay.” Logan’s breaths are coming in ragged and desperate. “I got a - he texted me.”

Nick looks him over twice. “C’mon. I’ll get you home.”

 

*******

 

“Have you ever done....stuff...with a teammate?”

“Like hooked up or...something else?”

“I don’t know,” Logan says. “Both?”

“Yeah,” Nick says. “To the first one, anyway.”

“Who?” Logan immediately realizes what he just asked and starts to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Would you believe me if I said Josi?” Nick grins, his smile big and a little bit crooked and full of teeth. Logan’s jaw slacks and Nick notices, giggling at the shock on his face.

“You bagged _Josi?_ ”

Nick rolls onto his back, still laughing, looking up at Logan’s ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I bagged Josi.”

“Holy shit.” Logan props himself up onto his elbow, freeing Nick’s arm underneath him. “That’s like...holy shit. You bagged Josi.”

Nick turns his head. “You’re really that surprised?”

“He’s like, unattainable levels of hot.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say.” He shrugs.

Logan shakes his head. “Incredible. You’re my hero.”

Nick brings his arm around Logan’s back, taps his fingertips up and down his spine. Logan tips his head down and kisses him, languid and deep, and Nick hums with approval.

“What about you?” Nick asks when Logan finally pulls away. “You ever....whatever, with a teammate?”

Logan mulls over how much he wants to tell. This - what he’s doing with Nick, the kissing with no reason, the level of trust and openness - it’s new and it’s scary and it has all the potential in the world to blow up in his face.

But carrying what he’s carrying - the years with Jason, the back and forth, the ease with which Jason walks in and out of his life - that holds the same potential and comes without anyone to shoulder it with him.

He reaches out and laces his fingers between Nick’s. He takes a breath.

“Yes,” he tells Nick, voice weaker than he’d like. “I’ve...yeah. Whatever. And then some.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “You were together?”

“Yeah, I guess. As much as we could be.” He swallows. “And then he was traded. And then we weren’t.”

Nick squeezes his hand.

 

*******

 

“I’m fine.” Jason’s voice is disgustingly optimistic and it makes Logan want to jump the next flight to Dallas and fight him. “I mean, I’m a little doped up at the moment, so that might be a factor, but I’m _fine_.”

“You’re out for the rest of the season. That’s not fine.” Logan’s hand sweats against his phone.

“There’s only a month left in the regular season.”

“Yeah, a whole month.”

Jason snorts. “How long were you out this season?”

“Okay, fair,” Logan concedes. “But as an expert on long-term injuries, I know that you’re not fine. Or you won’t be after a few games.”

Jason sighs on the other end and it’s so familiar to Logan that it aches inside of him, the way his ankles still do sometimes when it storms. “But I am right now. And hey, maybe when I get to that point, I’ll come see you.”

Logan freezes. “You. What?”

“I could come visit. You could nurse me back to health,” he teases. “I could actually spend some time with you for once.”

Logan mouth dries out. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

The teasing tone drops on the other end of the line. “I miss you.”

“Jay.” Logan exhales. “You...can’t stay.”

Jason snickers. “Well, yeah, I mean, I’m only out for a month-”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You _can’t_ stay.” He pauses, thinks about they way Nick kissed him goodbye, made him promise to call as soon as he had news. How Nick is always gentle and unassuming and cautious with Logan. How he doesn’t expect anything in return for what he gives.

With Jason, nothing can ever stay put long enough to burn. Gravity always loses.

“I deserve someone who can stay.”

The line goes silent.

“Logan. I had to leave.”

“You had to leave San Jose. Yeah.”

A pause. “I’m sorry.”

Logan takes a deep breath, steadies his voice the best he thinks he can. “I’m glad you’re okay, Jay.”

“Thanks,” Jason says. His voice cracks and two weeks ago, Logan might’ve chirped him for it, given him a rough time for being so soft in the middle.

Today though, Logan hangs up.

And he calls Nick.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/peggingcrosby) / [tumblr](http://bennboysbutts.tumblr.com)


End file.
